


no other version of me i would rather to be

by oh_la_fraise



Series: kinky dorks in love [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Discussions of marriage, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 08:39:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6559651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_la_fraise/pseuds/oh_la_fraise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Mom,” Steve says, voice cracking, and her heart stops.  “Bucky—”  and then he breaks down into tears.  </p><p>Her first thought is: oh, Bucky broke up with Steve.  Hot fury washes over her while she's simultaneously relieved; she had liked Bucky, thought he was better than this.  She was going to find him and skin him alive, but Steve was okay, at least, they could fix this, although she'd seen how Steve looked at Bucky, and she wasn't so sure this could be fixed—</p><p>That's her first thought.  Later, she'll feel guilty that she didn't immediately think: Bucky didn't stay in the office like Steve.  Bucky worked in the field, with drug crimes, which put him in the path of a lot of angry sellers with guns.  “Steve,” she asks, afraid of what the answer will be, “is he okay?” </p><p>Or: Sarah sits with an injured Bucky and gets asked a very important question.</p>
            </blockquote>





	no other version of me i would rather to be

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Hozier's Jackie and Wilson.

Sarah sighs. Her shift has been killing her, and there's still three hours left. One of her patients has coded twice, and the other won't stay in bed, feeling much more confident than his ailing body will allow. Plus, they're short staffed, so she has a third; an elderly man recovering from surgery that will not stop complaining about everything. Her feet hurt, and she still needs to go to the store after her shift.

It seems only fitting that Steve calls her, voice heavy like he's been crying.

Her cell phone is in her locker, with, unbeknownst to her, several missed calls before Steve calmed down enough to realize she wouldn't have it on her. Sarah only gets a clue when Marcy, the charge nurse, pokes her head in Mr. Donner's room. “Sarah,” she says, “call at the station for you.” She smiles at her patient before slipping out to follow Marcy. “Thanks, love. If I had to hear him complain about his jello one more time—”

“Sarah,” Marcy says, her face serious. “You do have a call. It's Steve, he sounds upset.”

The world stops.

She rushes to the nurses' station, lunging across to grab the phone from Diane even though it would have taken five seconds more to walk around. That's five seconds too long. Diane doesn't say anything, just watches her, concerned. Steve spent a lot of time here growing up, both as a patient himself and squirreled away in the break room when her sitter fell through. He has a lot of fans in the ICU ward.

“Sweetheart?” she says into the phone, hands trembling.

“Mom,” Steve says, voice cracking, and her heart stops. “Bucky—” and then he breaks down into tears. 

Her first thought is: oh, Bucky broke up with Steve. Hot fury washes over her while she's simultaneously relieved; she had liked Bucky, thought he was better than this. She was going to find him and skin him alive, but Steve was okay, at least, they could fix this, although she'd seen how Steve looked at Bucky, and she wasn't so sure this could be fixed—

That's her first thought. Later, she'll feel guilty that she didn't immediately think: Bucky didn't stay in the office like Steve. Bucky worked in the field, with drug crimes, which put him in the path of a lot of angry sellers with guns. “Steve,” she asks, afraid of what the answer will be, “is he okay?”

Steve sobs harder. “I. . .I don't know. Natasha called—he got shot covering a civilian. She's stuck at the scene, cleaning up. . . She said he was bleeding a lot. I'm trying to get to him, but there's the fucking taxi strike and the train is delayed and—” Steve cuts off, hysterical. It says something that he's swearing in front of her. “Mom, they're taking him to General. Can you go check on him? I know you're on shift, but—” Steve cuts off, uncertain. Even in a time like this, her son doesn't want to bother anyone. She feels calm, now that she has an action she can take. “Of course, sweetheart. I'll go down now.”

Steve hiccups. “Okay, thank you. Can you call me when you know? I'm headed into the station now; tell him I'm on my way; tell him I love him, God, I love him so much.” She can hear Steve's breath quicken, working himself into a fit again. “Steven,” she says, falsely stern so Steve will listen and calm down. “You can tell him when you get here. Take a deep breath. I'll go see your boy while you working on getting here.”

“Yes ma'am,” Steve replies, placated. “I'm about to lose signal, I think, but thank you.” 

“Of course sweetheart. I'll call you when I know.” She hangs up the phone. Diane and Marcy are watching her cautiously. It takes a second to transport herself back to reality. “Steve's boyfriend, Bucky—” she starts. They ask about Steve often; they both know who Bucky is. “—was shot on an assignment. EMTs are bringing him here. Steve is on his way, but I told him I'd go try to figure out what was going on.” 

Their faces soften. “Of course, Sarah. I hope he's okay. Go on; we'll take care of things here,” Marcy says. Sarah nods her thanks at them, and then dashes to the staff elevator, punching the button for the ER. She makes this trip all the time—they transfer people from the ER to the ICU a few times a day—but it seems to take forever today. The doors slide open, and she marches up to Mark, the charge nurse for the ER shift. 

“Sarah?” he says, looking at her bemused. “We don't have any transfers I don't think, unless you've just missed my face that much—”

“GSW,” she says, wasting no time. Mark's face transforms instantly, growing serious. “White male, late 20's. From an FBI shoot out. Have you seen him?” 

“Yeah, I know who you're talking about. Bay 6, c'mon.”

“Wait,” she says. Her voice shakes. “Is he. . .is he okay?” 

Mark raises an eyebrow. “He's got a head graze that was bleeding like a stuck pig and a pretty nasty concussion, but the CT came back clean. He should be fine in a week or two.”

“Oh, thank god.” Sarah staggers, and Mark grabs her arm, steadying her. “Sarah? Do I need to get someone for you?”

“No, I'm fine,” she says. Her adrenaline is starting to level off. “He's my son's partner,” she says, because Mark is clearly curious. 

“Damn,” Mark swears. “No, he'll be fine, Sarah, I promise. Is Steve okay?” 

“On his way. He got stuck in the taxi strike.”

“Gotcha.” Mark still has her arm, tugging her gently to where Bucky is. “C'mon, he'll appreciate a friendly face, I'm sure.” 

There isn't much privacy in the ER—lack of space necessitates it—but the curtain is pulled shut around Bucky's bed. “Just a warning,” Mark says, voice low, “he's pretty out of it from the painkillers.” With that piece of advice, he leaves her standing at the foot of Bucky's bed. She stares at the curtain resolutely before stepping behind it.

Bucky looks bad. She knows in reality it looks worse than it is, but Steve is going to freak out. He's ghostly pale, laying back onto white sheets that aren't helping. His eyes are shut, but he's developing one hell of a shiner on his left eye. A blood transfusion bag and an IV lead into his arms. The worst part of it is his head. There's a thick white bandage covering the left side of his head, and what the bandage doesn't cover is bald; they must have shaved part of his head to stitch the wound. 

Bucky seems to be asleep, so she sneaks over to the wall behind his bed, pulling down the courtesy phone there. She gets Steve's voicemail—he must be out of service still—so she leaves a message. She rambles, her normal deftness with relaying serious illnesses gone in having the patient as someone she loves. Still, she gets the point of across: he'll be okay.

It's the quietest of clicks when she sets the phone down, but Bucky still inhales deeply, startled awake. “Steve?” he asks, voice hoarse.

“He's on his way, sweetheart.” she says, stepping back into Bucky's view. He stares at her uncomprehendingly. “But you're going to be fine.” This is at least familiar; comforting Bucky is unpleasantly reminiscent of taking care of Steve when he was sick.

Bucky continues staring at her. Sarah is beginning to worry the concussion was worse than Mark thought when his eyes widen comically. He grins. “Sarah! You're here!”

“Yes, dear, I'm here.” She settles on the edge of his bed, stroking the hair that still remains. 

“Is Steve here?” Memory loss; it's to be expected. “He's on his way,” she repeats.

“Good,” he says, leaning into her hand like a cat. He jerks up suddenly; it must jar his head by how much paler he gets. He stutters. “Not that it's not good having you here Sarah—I really appreciate it. I didn't mean it like that.” 

“Don't worry, kid. I know you didn't.” Bucky sighs, relief stark on his face, before turning his head back into her hand. She shouldn't find this funny—Bucky got shot in the head; it could have ended very badly—but his naked, over-hyped emotions from the painkillers are a bit amusing. 

His eyes shoot open again, and he looks distressed. “Sarah,” he gasps. “They shaved my head!”

“Yes, they had to so that they could treat you.”

“But just on the one side?” he whines. Bucky, for all of his many redeeming qualities, is a bit vain. “I can't pull off an undercut.” He sounds so distressed. “I'll have to shave it all off. I'll be bald.”

“It'll grow back.”

“Steve will laugh at me.”

Honestly, Steve probably would poke fun a little. “I'm sure he'll be too busy doting on you.” 

“Mmm,” Bucky hums. “I don't want him to think I'm ugly.” 

“Sweetheart, you could get a tattoo on your forehead and he'd still think you hung the moon.” 

“That's silly,” Bucky mutters, goofy smile back on his face. Honestly, he looks like that talking about Steve even when he's not on high painkillers. “Cuz he hung the moon. Sarah,” he turns serious, “he's so fucking . . .amazing. He's the most amazing person I ever met. Amazing.” he trails off.

She can't stop her laugh this time. “I think he's pretty amazing myself, although I'm biased.” 

He grabs her hand, shaking it to get his point across. “You, you are like the best mom ever. And, like, I say that even with my Mom, and she's pretty amazing too. But, like, you raised Steve. You did that.”

She smiles at Bucky. “Thank you, Bucky. I'm glad he has someone who loves him as much as you do.”

“I do love him, so much. Sarah,” he says, completely serious even with his blown pupils, “I love him so much. I want to marry to him.”

It feels like there's no oxygen in the room; Bucky's confession has consumed it all. “That's very nice, Bucky. I think you should talk to him about that though, when you're better.” 

His gaze doesn't waver. “I will. But not for awhile. I wanna—I wanna do it right. Romantic. Doves and shit. And I want your blessing, 'cuz you're the most important person in the world to him.”

Sarah pauses, thinking. Even with Bucky only semi-lucid, she wants to answer this cautiously. Ultimately it is Steve's decision—Bucky is asking for her blessing, not her permission—but they both know if she was against it Steve would take that very seriously. Her gut recoils at the idea—they're both so young, and they haven't been dating long. A selfish part of her argues that Steve is her little boy, and she can't imagine him getting married. 

But. Steve, while he'll always be her child, is an adult, and he has to make his own decisions. Bucky is a good guy; caring, funny, and sweet. And even though they haven't been dating long—just a little over a year and a half—they have a surety in their interactions that lack in couples who've been in much longer relationships. And Bucky wasn't kidding when he said Steve hung the moon. It's clear to anyone who spends five minutes around them that Bucky and her son are devoted to each other. 

She's not sure what Bucky said about her being Steve's most important person is true anymore.

“Honey,” she says, squeezing his hand, “I won't say anything to Steve until you're ready, but if you continue to love and treat him like you do now, I can't think of a better person for him to be with for the rest of his life.”

Bucky beams and it's like a sunrise. Sarah can understand why Steve is so gone on this boy. “Thank you, Sarah, I—oh.” His face shifts, and Sarah grabs the kidney dish. She knows what that look is. “I don't feel so good.”

Ten minutes later, after Bucky is done throwing up the bile in his stomach and she's disposed of the dirty dish, there's a flurry outside the curtain. Steve bursts in, panting and wheezing. “Bucky,” he says, looking at all the tubes. He runs to the bed, as if he can't stand to not be touching Bucky any longer. He grabs Bucky by the head and kisses him on the mouth, ignoring the foul taste. He pulls back, eyes glistening. “Jesus, Bucky, I thought—”

“Hey, I'm okay,” Bucky says soberly, despite all the painkillers. “Besides, your Ma and I got to spend some quality time together without your ugly mug interfering.”

“Jerk,” Steve says, but he's smiling. “I'm really glad you're okay.” He presses his forehead to Bucky's, both of them closing their eyes.

Sarah takes that as her cue to leave. She lifts herself up from the uncomfortable bedside chair, squeezing Steve's shoulder as she leaves. “I'm going to head back upstairs. I was in a really riveting conversation about how are Jello is inferior to Metro's earlier.”

“Ma, wait,” Steve says. He follows her, slipping out of the curtain that surrounds Bucky's bed. He looks like he's about to collapse himself. “Thanks for staying with him.”

“Of course, Steve.” She pauses, the earlier conversation weighing on her mind. “He's a good man.”

Steve flashes a quiet, happy smile. “He really is.”

She squeezes his shoulder. “Get back to your boy.” Steve gives her a final hug and slips back in. She watches him go before starting to head back upstairs. It feels like she left a lifetime ago, even though it's only been about half an hour. She feels heavier and lighter all at once.

For better or worse, Steve has Bucky to take care of him now, and Bucky doesn't seem to be going anywhere anytime soon.

James and Steven Rogers-Barnes. It doesn't sound half bad.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [Tumblr](http://ohlafraise.tumblr.com/)  
> !


End file.
